


The Scorpion and The King

by The_starstruck_prince



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, M/M, honestly just shooting the shit at this point, theres still jutsus just referred to as magic, this prolly is not gonna turn out the way I drafted it to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23894395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_starstruck_prince/pseuds/The_starstruck_prince
Summary: The Third, Lion of the Desert- The most powerful king the kingdom of Suna had ever held. He was both terribly feared and deeply admired, a man that strove for peace but could shake castles to ruin if he had to. He was a gorgeous kind of man, in both physique and mentality. Nearing his thirtieth birthday, he stood proud and tall, akin to a lion admiring his pride, every day as he looked over his citizens. His skin was olive in tone, flawless to the touch - or so it was rumored; he'd never taken a spouse, and turned away all opportunities to court princesses from neighboring kingdoms. His eyes were a deep gold, like burnt honey, and they were difficult to meet- for most, but not one.Sasori's journey through love, heartache, and puppetry.For @thatshipcat on tumblr, hope you like!!
Relationships: Sandaime Kazekage | Third Kazekage/Sasori
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. Smoke and Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shipcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipcat/gifts).



The Third, Lion of the Desert- The most powerful king the kingdom of Suna had ever held. He was both terribly feared and deeply admired, a man that strove for peace but could shake castles to ruin if he had to. He was a gorgeous kind of man, in both physique and mentality. Nearing his thirtieth birthday, he stood proud and tall, akin to a lion admiring his pride, every day as he looked over his citizens. His skin was olive in tone, flawless to the touch - or so it was rumored; he'd never taken a spouse, and turned away all opportunities to court princesses from neighboring kingdoms. His eyes were a deep gold, like burnt honey, and they were difficult to meet- for most, but not one.

Sasori, not-so-affectionately nicknamed the Scorpion, was the Lion's advisor, and doubled as his personal guard. With eyes like a hawk, he kept close watch on his charge. He was the Third's shadow, silent and ever present. He was cold, expressionless around anyone who wasn't his liege, and had an air of deadly precision. Always on task and never distracted, he was quite the opposite to the charismatic king.

And he never had trouble meeting the Lion's gaze.

The Scorpion was enamored by this beautiful being, captured and captivated, and made it his sole mission to protect this piece of living artistry.

* * *

“Sasori.”

His Lion seemed to purr; but his gaze was sharp- piercing. A lesser man would cower under his stare. 

“Yes, sire?” Sasori replied, blinking owlishly, shifting to his other foot. 

“You’ve been daydreaming- hardly said a word to me.” This was a trick statement, the Scorpion figured. He grunted in response. 

The king laughed. “I figured that would’ve caught you off guard, my beautiful scorpion- but you are _ever_ persistent in your lack of verbal communication.” Sasori felt a strange burning on his skin at the king’s words.

It was often that the burning would inflict him; often it was by honeyed words, but sometimes he would catch a sneaking look in his charge’s eyes- something so…

He wasn’t sure how to describe it. 

The Scorpion scoffed. This day was like any other; standing around and keeping the king company. Sasori wondered what he would do if he wasn’t the Lion’s personal guard, but often his thoughts persisted with him being ever present by the king’s side.

And it was never a bitter thought either, living his life next to his king- he just couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be king for a day.


	2. Weakest Link

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: violence, amputation

A vile feeling permeated the Scorpion nightly, keeping him from sleep. He tried to make potions and tonics for sleep aids, but no matter what he couldn’t seem to sleep peacefully. He even considered contacting his hag of a grandmother- the old alchemist, before he’d replaced her with modern skills.

Darkened eyes, bruised from the lack of rest, turned towards the window, and then to the door. Sasori’s chest ached, and if he did sleep, he had dreams of flashes of olive and honey, and he felt like he was burning, burning, burning-

He didn’t realize what he was doing until his hand was resting on the king’s chamber door handle. He cursed himself silently, but the door handle felt so cold against his flushed skin, cooling him, and he found himself unable to let go of it. 

Sasori closed his eyes, and opened the door. 

A wave of cool air alerted him first. He snapped up, scanning the room. The- _His-_ Lion’s windows were open, but he appeared to be deeply asleep. And of course, Sasori didn’t bring any of his defenses- just a poison coated dagger. 

He held his breath, and willed his heartbeat to still, to silence itself from his ears. 

The floor creaked, and Sasori’s eyes narrowed. He threw the dagger with deadly precision, and his target was revealed. 

An assassin, using cloaking magic, laid paralyzed on the floor, blade buried directly in his heart. However- instead of fear in his eyes, there was a smugness. 

“Not- the… Only one…” He snarled through bared teeth before he expired. 

Panic struck the Scorpion as he retrieved his knife and drew up to the bed. His Lion was seemingly fine, still sleeping- Sasori reached out a barely trembling hand to wake him- 

The King blinked awake, a look of surprise, then concern, and something else crossing his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but the Scorpion was quick to silence him, pointing to the body on the floor.

Everything else was so quick to happen- four more masked men, moving almost too quick. Sasori braced himself, making split-second calculations as they drew closer. Like lightning, the Scorpion struck each- but not without slipping up. In his sleepy haze, he’d accidentally imagined his Lion being injured, and a well of pure anger flared in him, blinding him for a second-

_Again, that burning feeling on my skin… No, deeper. My arm-_

He took a second to glance down, and saw that his arm had been cleanly amputated. 

_Dizzy. Lightheaded. Spinning. Protect-_

A high-pitched whine filled his ears, and even though he was skilled enough in medicine to realize he was going into shock, he couldn’t do anything about it. He just watched, blinking slowly, as two men drew upon him, readying a killing blow. He watched as their sneers turned to petrifying fear, watched as black sand- no, _iron sand_ \- flushed the room and cocooned the assassins.

They were crushed immediately, without mercy, but the last thing Sasori saw was _His_ Lion rushing to him, cupping his face and speaking incoherently. The trembling, warm hands on his face as well as the lightheaded delirium brought forth a small, genuine smile as he fell into an inky blackness. 

* * *

When he finally came to, his arm was on fire, his body stiff, and his head pounding. He grunted, forcing himself to sit up. He was deeply aware of the lack of weight on his left side, and remembered what had happened. 

He cursed again, his ears red-hot. Not only was he unable to protect his charge, he was badly injured in the process. Which meant he would be dismissed as a servant or lower and replaced- Jealousy raced through him.

His self loathing was replaced by a startled king, reaching out to cup his face. 

“My scorpion, you’re awake…” The Third murmured, worry seeping through his voice like water beading on a leaf. Sasori remained silent, ears on fire for a different reason, but he desperately wanted to ask if he was alright, if he was going to be replaced, if-

“Before you panic, my beautiful guardian, you will rest until you feel as though you are capable again, and then you will return to your regular duties as my personal guard.” Sasori breathed a sigh of relief, lying back down.

“Rest now.” The Third ordered. Another servant scurried to the door, calling at the king’s presence had been requested, but he sent her away with a golden glare. He turned back to the scorpion, gingerly placing a hand on his head, running his fingers through the thick red hair, and continuing. 

For the first time in years, Sasori found sleep easily.


	3. Metamorphosis

Within the next few days, Sasori was back on his feet. His arm was gone from the elbow down, unnaturally limp. His mood was fouler than usual, and for good cause. Being crippled in this way- having to  _ wait _ \- he was useless.

To both himself and his king. 

As he paced his quarters, an idea came to mind. He moved over to an old wardrobe, opening it. Inside, a very compacted workshop was neatly laid out. 

Sasori was quite the mage, but unlike others who used direct force or illusions, he prefered to keep himself at a distance while still doing damage; he was a puppeteer. If he could just turn one of his puppet’s arms into a prosthetic, perhaps he could return to his fully functioning self again. A body part that couldn’t feel pain, wouldn’t get tired, and could be replaced at any time, as well as hiding weapons within it? 

_ A crude one will have to do for now, _ he figured, digging out an old wooden arm. He focused his magic, wiggling the oaken fingers and curling them into a fist. He had seen his grandmother do it once, puppeteering a limb that was attached to her. And maybe if this worked, perhaps he could give a literal meaning to his title: the Scorpion of the Red Sands. 

* * *

Through the next days and nights, Sasori spent his time attuning to his new limb, and after he became confident with it, began constructing a new arm. Who else would know it better than him- every scar and imperfection on the smooth skin; except, he figured, this replacement wouldn’t  _ just _ be a replacement. It was going to be an  _ improvement.  _

_ A limb which does not tire, nor tarnish- truly eternal, beautiful. _

He worked tirelessly, and became frustrated at his bodily limitations. Continuously having to eat and sleep was only a burden to him, keeping him longer from protecting his charge, but working against his body would only render him more useless. 

Another thing that kept him from his work was his nagging thoughts. He would not allow himself to be seen by his Lion in this weakened state, and had locked himself away to his toil, but intrusive thoughts took root and grew in him. Was his king safe? Who was protecting him? Did he wonder about him? Did he care? Was he- Sasori was quick to shut down these anxieties. Emotion was only going to hinder him.

But the nights on which he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open, his guard would slip and welcome spectre-like memories of touches from his Lion, especially the delicate touch of fingers weaving through his hair.

After many attempts, he was finally content with his work. A fully functioning limb, with a hidden poison cloud release if it was in any way punctured during a fight. He fit the prosthetic and tested it's dexterity and full range of movement, the ghost of a pleased smile touching his lips. The Scorpion rushed out to go report his status to the king. 

Reaching the king’s quarters, he refused to knock- he’d never done so before, it was a privilege that only he had. He crossed the room, headed for the balcony which his Lion often lounged, and was greeted with a sight that made his stomach turn. 

His friendly rival, Rasa, was accompanying the king. They’d been friends for many years, and often tried to one-up each other- not maliciously, but in a way that kept the both of them on their toes. They were similar in mind but completely different in the way they harnessed magic; while Sasori had his puppetry, Rasa could manipulate gold dust- not unlike the king. 

“Sasori.” The Lion greeted him warmly, standing. But Sasori’s gaze was fixed on what he was wearing. A cloak of gold dust hung off his shoulders elegantly, and for some reason, that visual of Rasa wrapped around  _ his _ charge made him clench his jaw. 

“His majesty looks good in gold, doesn’t he?” Rasa’s tone was harmless, playful even. “Always protected even when I’m unprepared.” 

Sasori’s face was stony as he blinked slowly, jealousy piercing his stomach like a dagger; it flipped, turning like a ship at sea during a storm. 

“You are relieved of your duties, Rasa, I appreciate it greatly.” The Lion purred. The gold dust shifted away from him, slithering away from his shoulders and returning to a small bottle strapped to Rasa’s belt. He brushed past Sasori, a knowing glint in his eye.

_ No harm meant,  _ he seemed to say with the curt nod on his way out. Sasori followed him with his eyes out the door, then fixed his attention to the king once more. He bit his tongue, trying desperately not to speak out of turn let the jealousy ride up from his stomach and come from his mouth like razor wire coated in venom.

“Your arm…?” The king said, reaching out. Sasori offered his new arm out, bracing himself for the other’s touch- and was almost surprised when he couldn’t feel it. 

Suddenly a thought set fire to his mind- if he could replace his whole body with prosthesis, he could rid himself of burning that so often afflicted him when he came in contact with the Lion. Then there would be no distractions, he would become an unstoppable soldier. 

“It’s exactly like the old one- how did you..?” The king gently cradled the wooden hand in his own, looking up at Sasori with an impressed smile. “My genius Scorpion, you will stop at nothing, will you?” and there was something deeper in his tone, thinly veiled, but enough that the Scorpion could not comprehend what it was. 

His eyebrows knit in confusion for just a moment, and then he sighed. “I would not feel comfortable with anyone else being your personal guard, forgive me.” His heart felt like an anchor in his chest, dragging him down. 

* * *

Sasori set to work on building a new body. He had diagrams and charts, scientific journals and magic tomes. It would be risky, of course, and he had to do it alone. The only one that might be skilled enough other than himself would be his grandmother, but as far as he was concerned, she was dead. 

He had to find the source of that burning feeling- it was driving him mad, and all the strange behavior and quick looks he caught from the Lion didn’t help. If he could just get into the new body, he figured that he would no longer have to deal with emotion. The burning couldn’t afflict him if he wasn’t able to feel anything, and he could become the perfect guard. 

The new body was finished, laid out on a long table, prepped and ready. Filled to the brim with hidden weapons and other things, sleek and perfect. Sasori ran his fingers over the cool surface. After this, there would be no feeling, ever again. For eternity. 

Never again feeling his Lion’s touches, or the burning in his chest that he’d grown a sliver of fondness for.

_ Am I willing to trade it all to become the perfect weapon? _

The Scorpion laid himself out on the table adjacent to his new shell, and ran the plan over his head one more time. It would only be painful for a moment, but if he could power through it with adrenaline, we would survive- or he should, at least. 

_ After I remove my heart, I’ll have four minutes to transfer all of my power into that puppet, before termination.  _

He looked towards the needle on the table next to him, filled with liquid adrenaline, and took it, before reaching to check all of the tools next to him. In the event of him getting tunnel vision, he needed to know exactly where all the tools were at. 

Worse yet, he was stalling, almost hoping that someone would stop him. Death didn’t scare him- it was the fear of uncertainty that came after, that came with not being able to feel anything. 

He drew a deep breath in, and pressed the needle into the crook of his arm, and began the transferring of his heart. 

* * *

When he awoke, he almost thought he was dead; upon sitting up, he realized that it had worked- he was no longer in his human body. He stood up shakily, walking a few steps before stumbling and catching himself. He tried to suck in a breath, but found he could not- it was almost like suffocating, but without the underlying anxiety. 

And he was correct- he couldn’t feel anything. He ran his hands over the fabric of his shirt, and felt nothing. It was odd, like being numb without the prickling feeling.

He was interrupted by a soft knock at his door. Swiftly, he moved to cover his old body with a sheet, and pulled open the door, snappy response already on the tip of his tongue until he saw who it was. 

“My Scorpion, forgive the intrusion…” The king was at his door, hastily dressed as if he’d just jumped out of bed and came straight to him. “But I felt as though something was wrong, that something had…” 

He trailed off, meeting Sasori’s gaze reluctantly. Sasori blinked, stepping aside to let him into the room, readying an explanation, but his thoughts were rammed to a screeching halt. The Lion had grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him closer- he’d have been able to feel the heat radiating off his skin- and did something unseenly for someone of his royal stature. 

He kissed Sasori. It caught him by surprise, so much so that he was frozen. Suddenly everything had pieced itself together- how could he have been so blind? 

“Forgive me, I- I’m not sure what has come over me.” The Lion admitted, but confusion wrote itself all over his expression. He brought a hand up, touching Sasori’s face. He tapped it experimentally, the dull, hollow click of nail on wood seeming to echo. The king’s face turned from confusion to soft horror.

“What have you done to yourself?” 


	4. Desert Hea(r)t

Tools clattered to the floor as Sasori shot up from his work table, heaving great, shuddering breaths. With trembling hands, he felt his face- warm, hot even, and he could feel the clammy sweat of his hands on his cheeks. His heart thundered in his ears from anxiety and excitement.

_Just a dream._

He wasn’t even close to being done with his new body, too many imperfections still, even after hours of toiling and restarting, redrawing, rethinking. 

He sighed, collapsing back into his chair. He couldn’t get his mind to stop considering his king’s hands, his lips and skin, the look in his eyes-

_Damn._

He tapped his wooden fingers on the table, willing the images, the ghosts of touches to go away. His room felt too hot, closed off, suffocating, even for him. He stood, swiftly pulling a cloak across his shoulders, and left his room, making sure to lock the door behind him. 

He felt like a ghost, drifting through the large, empty sandstone corridors, moonlight filtering in through the windows that lined the halls. It was cooler here, but he still felt feverish. As he wove through the castle out to the courtyard, his dream began to fade to a dull throb in his chest. 

The cool air settled through his thin cloak, and a sigh of relief escaped him. He surveyed the landscape, not allowing himself to think of the dream, nor the blueprints for his new body, just taking in the desert. 

So vast and empty, yet full of hidden life. 

He’d never really appreciated the outside world before this moment, he thought to himself. And yes, it was true that with a hollow body, he wouldn’t have to worry about urges or desires burning him up, but he wouldn’t experience the cool night air either.

He looked towards the moon, half filled, hanging low in the sky; across the horizon, the faintest touches of pink beckoned the sunrise. Would he see the same in a puppet body? Would he see at all? 

There was so much he didn't know.

Art was supposed to be preserved, eternal, but every sunrise and sunset was different, and beautiful all the same; and though it was different, it was still the same sun, and would rise and fall without doubt every day like clockwork. 

_You’ve come too far to rethink your choice,_ He halfheartedly tried to tell himself, but it was too late. As delicious as the idea of being a super soldier was so he could protect his charge, how could he leave all of this behind?

A scorpion skittered across his path, and he crushed it without delay.

A puppet body is wooden, easily splintered and destroyed. And even though repairs could be done, it wasn’t truly eternal. 

An uncomfortable thought niggled in the back of his mind amongst his identity crisis- What if he went through with his metamorphosis, and his Lion thought that he was something monstrous?

“ _What have you done to yourself, my scorpion?”_ The voice echoed in his mind. 

For the first time in years, tears sprang to Sasori’s eyes, but were quickly snuffed out.

* * *

Weeks passed sluggishly for Sasori now. His daily duties guarding the king were ordinary, without danger; his nightly task haunted him. He spent more and more time outside instead of his room, the cold desert nights were his only solace against the blistering heat and unbearable pressure of his room. 

What was worse is that he knew he was being neurotic. He knew that it was all in his head, but it befuddled him. He had always had a will of iron, always goal oriented. He crushed his training days when he was younger by being ruthlessly passive- empathy did not come naturally to him. 

The heat of the sun had never bothered him. He grew up in the desert, he wasn’t supposed to get _hot._ It was ridiculous. _He_ was ridiculous. 

His eyes were bruised from lack of sleep, darkened by the storm within- _I’m just so tired._

A moment of delirium brought forth a memory.

_“My beautiful guardian.” The Lion’s hand cupped his face, thumb running over his cheek, which traveled upwards to tangle itself into his hair, soothingly petting and caressing. Sasori found sleep easily, and was content to drift off with that calloused hand weaving in and out of his locks._

His heart felt as though it had seized in his chest. Suddenly pieces were falling into place, connecting into an intermingling web of memories and thoughts.

Desires, daydreams- his ears felt hot.

Once again he found himself making his way to the king’s quarters- as if a thread had been pulled, joining the two together swiftly. All at once, he was running, silently slipping through corridors until he stood, chest heaving, at that huge set of doors. The handle was cool, relief radiating through him- 

He paused. Last time, his king had almost been hurt, because of him. But surely if he hadn’t been there to wake him, then the attack would have been successful, right?

And if there were no hidden dangers this time, would he be able to handle the terrible, imaginary heat that would once again afflict him?

He opened the door. 

The moon, full now, filtered it’s cooling light through the terrace windows, casting unto the body of the king. 

The creak of the door had stirred the Lion, enough for him to be awakened and alert. His body relaxed once he saw who it was. 

To Sasori, this all seemed like a memory. His eyes darted to the window- securely shut. He willed his heart to still once more. 

“Your Highness…” He began, and he found himself, for the first time, unable to meet the Lion’s gaze. The sound of a soft shuffle told him that his charge had gotten up from the bed, and was padding his way over. 

“What is it, my scorpion?” Sasori’s breath hitched at the sheer gentleness of his words. He watched the king’s hand as he brought it up to touch his face, but Sasori shied away. The king’s gesture faltered. 

“I… I cannot sleep, I’ve been afflicted by-” His voice failed him. He’d never been one for nervous tics, but he found himself running his fingers over his prosthetic, searching for any flaw that he could fiddle with. 

“Forgive me, my Liege, for disturbing you…” Sasori knelt, and initiated the first contact; he took the king’s hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the signet that he wore- A sign of submission.

“Rise, Sasori.” His blood felt as though it had been lit on fire- The king almost never used his name, only affectionate nicknames when they were in private. He did so, forcing himself to meet those golden eyes. 

And although his left hand had been numb for months now, he swore he felt the king when he took hold of it. The heat burning in him threatened to overtake him, eating away at his resolve. 

Everything was a blur. His heart raced as he was pulled closer into an embrace by the other. His mind would not comprehend the king’s hands coming up to cup his face, but-

Suddenly and all at once, everything was crystalline. This was no dream- the Lion pulled him into a kiss that was very real, and Sasori reciprocated, allowing that heat to overtake his soul, filling it to the brim. 

He allowed himself to be human again, just for this moment, desperately reaching- instinct brought his hands to rest just at the back of the king’s neck. 

When they broke apart, Sasori tried to catch his breath, but he was already being guided, walked backward towards the canopied bed, and after a hazy moment, found himself laid across the silken sheet. 

Nothing had ever felt so right. 

“I have loved you since the first time you came to my court, Sasori. And I have wished, hoped that you would feel the same. I’ve been so cold without you- even when you were by my side every day, my heart ached for you because I could not have you.” 

He had always been more eloquent than Sasori. 

“Please…” Sasori pleaded, but for what, he had no clue. He just knew that he needed more, more than just one kiss, more than just a confession. 

The Lion was happy to comply. 


	5. Push and Pull

The next day found the Scorpion alone in the bed. He sat up blinking, dazed. He ran through all the events of the evening, crossing his arms over his bare chest. There was a heat to him now, a comfortable warmth, now that the burning had subsided. 

And still, a vile feeling permeated. 

Left alone, Sasori realized that his situation now was not like the sun at all. He couldn’t have this every day, could he? Not as long as his king would remain in his position- royalty and servants weren’t known to fraternize, and even if the king didn’t care, the people of his pride would. 

Since when was he so easily muddled by emotions? 

In minutes he was dressed, slipping out of the quarters and seeking out his absent highness. 

The scorpion found his target in the drawing room, looking over numerous documents. It was like divine intuition- before Sasori had even entered the room, his Lion was alert of his presence, warm smile and all. 

“I wondered when you’d be around.” His king rose from his seat, and Sasori felt an inclination to bow- which was odd, because he hadn’t done that in private for years. “And I’m sorry for leaving you alone this morning, but… you know.” With a wistful smile, his Lion crossed the room, stopping in front of him.

The words felt like jagged shards of ice in Sasori’s blood. He grunted, straightening his back and hardening his expression; this display earned a questioning head tilt, and a reaching hand to cup his face; Sasori stepped backwards, jaw slack, ready to respond-

He was snatched by the wrist, pulled sharply upwards. He was met with a volatile gaze, burning gold locked into an unbreakable stare. The fingers wrapped around his organic wrist were bruisingly tight.

“You know I meant nothing by that, my scorpion.” His king leaned in close to Sasori’s ear, warm breath fanning out across the skin. Leaning in for a kiss, once again met with hesitation. 

“Do I?” The Scorpion's voice was strong, smooth. “I am not a prize, and I’m not a plaything.” 

“Of course not, Sasori-” His Lion grunted, sighed, and rolled his eyes. “I haven’t waited this long to have you for just one evening, laid out and completely vulnerable…” His gaze faltered, shifting to the side as if he were running the memory over in his mind. “For you to get upset and push me away.” 

Sasori turned his head, the pit of his stomach feeling hollow and rotten. He felt a slithering motion under his chin and beside his cheek, feeling his head being turned gently. A wisp of iron sand curled around the underside of his face, cool to the touch. 

He drew in a deep sigh, letting his king close in for another kiss- it felt like fingers of electricity shooting through every nerve in his body, his mind melting, and for a moment, everything felt normal. 

He wasn’t a guard, his Lion wasn’t a king, they weren’t defined by special and specific parameters since birth.

Sasori wanted to preserve this moment forever. 

* * *

In the evenings, he had returned back to his quarters. It was too risky staying in the same room, the king had insisted. Sasori had scoffed, as if the title were more important than what the two of them felt. 

It made him wonder if it was one sided. If it was mutual, wouldn’t his Lion want to pull every string necessary so they could be together? 

_ His  _ king,  _ his  _ Lion,  _ his-  _ Sasori scoffed at himself. It was a bittersweet sentiment, trying to lay claim on someone who didn’t seem to outwardly want him. 

_ It was much easier before,  _ Sasori thought. _ I’d much rather burn than be sick all the time.  _

He looked over at his discarded project, laid out on a table and pushed into the corner, covered in a white sheet. He crossed the room, gripping the sheet and tearing it off, letting the fabric settle to the floor instead of neatly folding it up. 

When he was younger, he would throw himself into work when he felt overwhelmed. Puppetry was his favorite- everything bent to his whim, his will. It was all one mastermind behind all the moving parts. 

For now, it would just be a mindless project, and would end up sealed away, unused, but it would keep him occupied for awhile.

* * *

Their relationship was like the ocean. Pushing and pulling, sometimes harmonious, occasionally not. The ocean gives, but it also takes, takes, takes. It wears down land till all that remains is grains of sand, it is destructive and powerful. It harbors life forms both beautiful and dangerous. 

It is uncontrollable. 

Nearly a year had passed, Sasori had gained more scars from protecting the king, diplomatic trips and attacks and all; he’d finished his puppet doppelganger. He and the king were still pushing and pulling, and the vile rot in Sasori’s heart had grown into an obsession of preserving things. 

He’d begun to experiment on live creatures in private, seeing if he could not only make a puppet of their likeness, but make a puppet out of the organic material left behind. The next step was people, then people who were skilled in magic. He wanted to see if he could preserve their magic essence in the body shell of the puppet, and be able to expand his own magical arsenal through the means of using these human puppets. 

It was all done in private, no one could know- else he would lose all access to the state of the art books and equipment he got within the castle walls. 

During the day, he was a guard, and during the night, he was an artist. 


	6. Blood and Sand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: fight, blood, and needles

The day that you’re fated to die, you can feel it in the air, veiled by denial.

Sasori took one of his nighttime journeys to clear his head- he’d had a particularly frustrating day, dealing with petty antics. He’d denied spending the evening with the king, knowing that it would save his Lion sharp comments and slow heartbreak. 

Suna was a speck in the distance- he drew up on his favorite spot. It was a large rock formation, shaded during the day. He preferred to sit there in the evenings, drinking in the desert evening. As he drew closer, intuition told him he wasn’t alone. 

He was prepared this time, armed with a summoning spell of his preferred battle puppet- one that took the shape of some type of humanoid scorpion. He’d been drawing plans to alter it, make it both a functional weapon and shield. Hiruko, he called it, with multiple hidden weapons, each individually coated in a special poison he’d concocted. 

“Show yourself.” He called out, readying the summon. 

His eyes were drawn upwards as a figure stepped out from above the overhang. A young woman with pale blue hair, pinned with an origami rose and dressed in red and black. She appeared unarmed, but Sasori had seen her kind- discreetly dangerous. She was a magic wielder as well, and a powerful one at that; he could sense it on her. 

Whatever her practice was, she would make an excellent addition to his collection. 

“The Scorpion, Sasori. Your reputation precedes you.” Sasori was reminded of a tiger, sleek and cunning. 

“Reputation?”

“You’re a puppet master, no? And an excellent one at that- the near-constant guard of a king with no heir is a big task, especially for one person.” Her amber eyes watched him closely, monitoring every movement.

Sasori was silent for a moment. 

“If you know so much about me, then why don't you just cut to the chase? You must then know that I’m an impatient man.” He purred, keeping his arm tucked behind him, hand resting on the summoning scroll strapped to his lower back. 

“I’ve orders to dispose of you.” She said simply. And then from seemingly out of nowhere, little sheets of white paper materialized- no, shed from her- and formed into large, angelic-esque wings. She floated effortlessly down, and when she touched down to the sand, the papers blew out in a circle, surrounding the two by a large margin, floating on their own accord. 

A sneer painted itself on Sasori’s face as he flicked his wrist and slid the scroll from it’s holster. It unfurled smoothly in one movement, settling to the ground. At once, the Scorpion descended on it, nicking his finger between his teeth and wiping blood across the complicated summoning circle painted onto the scroll. 

He turned sinister eyes towards her, “You’re an artist, eh? And seemingly a fair match at that- I look forward to adding you to my collection.” 

He placed his palm in the center, hissing the release word, and a huge puff of smoke enveloped his form, the force kicking up sand in every direction. When the dust and smoke settled, he stood, while his beloved Hiruko laid prone, at the ready.

The puppet spanned across the ground- it was tortoise-like, with a large ogre mask set on the back of it. Out of the open mouth, a long tail made of separate iron joints ended with a sharp point, mimicking a scorpion’s. On the arm, it was encased in a heavy canister filled with shrapnel.

“Let the show begin!” He snarled, pulling his fingers into a fist and back towards his chest- Hiruko skittered across the ground with alarming speed, iron tail at the ready. 

The woman did not flinch, nor move- allowing herself to be run through by the poisoned tail.

Sasori’s smile faltered as he watched closely- the woman’s midsection, where she was pierced, began to peel off into the same sheets of paper, Her whole form dissolving and dispersing into the air. 

“Is this why you’re called the Scorpion?” The woman’s disembodied voice called. Suddenly, the sheets that had formed her shot past the puppet master, causing him to turn foot. She rematerialized behind him, about the same distance away. His jaw tightened in annoyance. 

She didn’t have a scratch on her- this was going to be a difficult fight.

The papers surrounding the two of them simultaneously folded into origami knives, and shot forward at an incomprehensible speed. Sasori growled, fingers twitching, as Hiruko skittered around him, the iron tail curling around him- 

It deflected most of the daggers, but a few whizzed past, slicing at his clothes, bouncing off the little armor he wore, and grazing his exposed arm and cheek. 

He’d heard of techniques like hers- the ability to shapeshift, intangibility, and mist walking- but the tradeoff was that she was vulnerable so long as she was caught off guard. It took a lot of concentration to maintain being untouchable, and she was  _ fast.  _ So if he could just trick her, make her slip up for a moment-

The puppet moved forward again, but instead of attacking with its tail, Sasori’s fingers twitched again- the one normal arm shot out, grabbing her ankle and pulling her to the ground. She fell with a grunt, kicking out at the puppet as the heavy canister arm came up and was brought down on her torso. She hacked out a wheezing cough, the force of both knocking the wind from her.

As Hiruko’s tail readied for the killing blow, and the woman crossed her arms over her face in a flinch, it came down and stopped a hair away from the woman’s throat. 

Sasori coughed, a numbness spreading through him. He looked down, blinking- he’d been impaled on a snow white lance, painted in blood- his blood. 

The woman slid out from under the paralyzed puppet, breathing heavily as she stood up shakily. 

“A formidable opponent you are, Scorpion. But you’re still much like a child.” Sasori crumpled to his knees, the world spinning and rocking in slow motion. When he coughed, it was wet with blood. 

He was going to die, and this angel of death was to be his courier. 

With blurred vision, he looked up at this woman who now stood over him. The paper had once again formed into wings, curling around the cusp of her body. 

“But I am not going to kill you, Sasori. You have great potential… We will be seeing each other again.” 

Sasori groaned, his eyelids heavy. The next few minutes were a blur. He felt his slackened body lifted up weightlessly, and the rush of wind was a cacophony in his ears. Then it all stopped, a door of some sort was opened, and he felt his body laid down. He struggled to open his eyes, and saw himself in his quarters, laid beneath his open window, a single sheet of paper fluttering to the ground. 

His heart beat sluggishly in his ears, and he was freezing cold, and tired, beyond tired. He was losing too much blood.

_ If I could just… _

He struggled, stumbling across the room to the work table with his doppleganger puppet. The chances of survival were slim, but- 

His hand, slick with blood, shakily dug around the piled tools beneath the table, and found what he was looking for- the adrenaline he’d procured when he was going to transfer his body the first time.

He’d have to be fast, he told himself as he struggled to fill the syringe properly. And totally flawless, as the needle penetrated his skin. 


	7. Chapter 7

Sasori felt an itch of annoyance as he was laid out on the table. He felt- no,  _ sensed-  _ that he was off-kilter. He couldn’t feel anything. His groggy consciousness pieced together the events from hours before- but he couldn’t move. 

The puppet body switch, did it work? It must have, if he was alive? If his mind were a machine, it would be clicking and whirring. A shadow of a thought crossed his path- He gathered all the magic in his body; where he was used to channeling through his fingers, he drew imaginary ties between his entire body, attaching magic to each part of himself. With gargantuan effort, he turned his head. 

In his mind, he felt hollow, staring at the crumpled corpse on the floor.  _ His _ corpse. A finger twitched, then his hand; his arm shifted, his legs drew up- It seemed an eternity before he could push himself up to a sitting position on the table. He brought a hand up, experimentally curling it into a fist and knocking on his torso. It echoed emptily back at him. His hand came up, pressing flat against the chest- there, his heart beat sluggishly. 

Carved from his body, he’d placed it into a canister, imbued with every ounce of magical energy he could muster before in his exhausted state, and it had survived. 

Clumsily, he stood, trying to get a feel for movement. He clutched onto the table, testing his boundaries. It would take too long to get accustomed to his new body without his king noticing. 

A drop of terror perforated his soul; his king. Was he safe? The woman had made an underhanded comment about his being the sole protector- she’d been stalking for some time, even before he lost his arm initially, if she knew about Rasa taking over his duties momentarily. 

It took a frustrating amount of time for him to pick up the body that had previously been discarded on the floor and lay it out on his workbench, as well as dress himself. He covered his corpse with the sheet he used to keep the dust off his materials, his movements becoming just a touch less jerky and awkward. 

Before he started out of the door to rush to his majesty, his gaze was drawn to the single sheet of paper on the floor. He picked it up gingerly, cupping it in his hand. He watched, then, as it autonomously creased itself once, then laid still. If Sasori’s eyebrows could draw together as they did before, he would’ve pulled a scowl. Instead, he remained emotionless, regardless of the fast, strong pounding of his heart in his chest. 

He hurried from the room, but not before placing the paper on his bedside table.

* * *

The king stood in Sasori’s room, his expression contorted in horror. Hand placed over his face, his eyes flicked back and forth between the body of his beloved and the replica next to the table. 

“You- you… What have you done?” 

Sasori’s heart seized, but there was no familiar sense of dread that those words should have struck, no feeling that makes the back of the neck burn and the head feel light. 

“I had no choice. I have a duty to protect you, an oath sworn till I drew my last breath.” Sasori answered simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

There was a cold expression in the king’s eyes. 

“But you no longer breathe, yes?” His hand dropped from his mouth, his expression smoothed out into one that Sasori had never had turned onto him from the other- distrust. 

He remained silent. 

“My protector would never…  _ disembowel  _ himself like this.” 

Sasori understood now. The king thought he was an enemy, an intruder. His studies had been completely secret, his human puppets had been turned to myths and rumors, of course his king wouldn’t understand. 

“Shouldn’t you be glad that I am not gone? That your love lives on? Or was it all to save face? Did you lose interest?” A faint hint of hurt shaded Sasori’s words. His fears slowly unraveled, being found and confirmed left his heart rate to pick up. 

The king opened his palm outward, and his iron sand pulled together, forming a wicked greatsword. It was heavy in the king’s hand, but he raised it, unfaltering, to point directly at Sasori’s chest; the dead center of his heart. 

“You have no right to impersonate him!” The Lion roared. 

Then he drew back to impale him. Sasori had never come close to the physical strength the king possessed- even he was surprised for a moment when he brought his hands up, lightning fast, catching the blade between his two palms and stopping it in his tracks, the force pushing him back a little.

“Can’t you listen to what I have to say?” Sasori said softly. “My Lion?”

That one phrase seemed to shatter the king. The weapon disintegrated into granules, scattering on the floor. He remained silent, but Sasori knew that this was a chance to speak. 

There was just a moment of hesitation; Sasori made the split second decision to lie- not lie, but not give all of the facts. Something deep in his mind told him to keep it concealed, that he had to unravel this mystery himself. 

“I was ambushed by rogues, I tried to fend them off, but I was caught off guard. I barely made it out, just far enough to get here. I knew that I wasn’t going to survive unless…” The scorpion nodded towards the table. “It’s dark magic, but you have to understand, my liege… I cannot allow myself to expire so easily and leave you behind.” 

He lifted his shirt, revealing his artificial body and heart canister. He then reached out, almost reluctantly, taking the king’s hand and pressing the palm to the face of the canister. His heartbeat was strong now, after it’s near extermination.

“Tell me you don’t recognize me.” He challenged.

The Lion cast his gaze down, shaking his head slowly. “You would defy natural order for me, my Scorpion?” He murmured. “As much as it pains me, as much as it’s wrong… I will allow you to stay. You pass as human enough but know that if your deeds come to light, and it is found that I knew of this-”

“There is no need to outline the repercussions.” Sasori cut him off. “Thank you.” 

Without another word, the king swept out of the room, leaving Sasori alone. 

His mind raced as he crossed over the room to his window, looking out at the desert, gently kissed by the first light of morning. He glanced at the paper that laid stationary on his bedside table- watched as it folded itself once again. 

_ Some kind of timer?  _ Sasori thought.  _ What for? _

* * *

Elsewhere, a discussion was held behind closed doors, void of prying eyes and listening ears. 

“My Lord?” Rasa stifled a yawn, brow creased with worry. “Has something happened?”

“Thank you for meeting me under such short notice.” The king was facing away from the other, but turned to meet his questioning gaze. He sighed deeply, rubbing his face as he sat down. “Please, sit.” 

“You’re worrying me. Did something happen to-” Rasa was cut off as the king held up a silencing hand. He sank down into an adjacent chair.

“I don’t want to alarm you, but should anything happen to me, you are to assume the crown.” 

There was a long pause. 

“I’m sorry?”

“I trust in your judgement and ability to protect this kingdom.” The king said simply, producing a wax sealed letter- presumably the notarized letter of inheritance. “As I have no heir by blood, I am choosing you to be the next in line for the crown once I am no longer fit to rule, or in the event of my death or incapacitation.” 

“But… Why? I’m- I’m honored, but why...this, so sudden?” Rasa asked.

The king shook his head. “It’s good to have preparations in case something happens. Thank you, Rasa.” And he waved his hand, dismissing the other. 

Once he was alone, the king rubbed his hands over his face again, exhausted from the emotional ups and downs of the past hour of him being awake. 


End file.
